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Strep Throat, Guilt and the Nissan Cube

Sunday afternoon Alexander had a tennis tournament. It was his second one ever and his first time playing singles. Of course his opponent for doubles was a good friend who plays five days a week for the last two years and has courts in his back yard. After losing Alexander cried and said, “It’s all just too much.” This is completely out of character for him and I should mention that he’d said that he wasn’t feeling well. I chalked the crummy feeling up to a change in the weather and sort of ignored the moaning.

Monday morning he was still sort of moaning but there was no fever and I thought maybe he just wanted to be home with me because kids with wonderful mothers always want to be home on a Monday, right? Plus I had my first appointment with a trainer and I didn’t want to miss it. Shut Up.

I sent him to school fever free. I picked him up from school not feeling well and offered him an afternoon on the sofa rather than an afternoon of baseball. He was still fever free and when I told Mr. G as much he went on a tirade at work about how his wife was turning his son into a pussy. The guys at work agreed with him that us pussy-boy making moms were all idiots but Hey, there’s work to be done. So he shrugged his shoulders and got to work.

By the time Mr. G got home from the office Alexander’s fever was 102.8. This morning the swab for strep came back positive. The antibiotics have begun.

Naturally I’m worked over with guilt and I’ve made the boy about a half dozen smoothies and offered to cook, bake or tap-dance on the roof. All he wants to do is play Call of Duty and sip berry smoothies.

Did I mention that while I was on the road with Oprah Mr. G bought the kids Wonder Bread, non organic milk and Call of Duty? I’m still really pissed about the non organic milk. I’m learning to live with video games that include the F word.

Still feeling incredibly guilty I leave Alexander home alone so I can bring the Jaguar in for service. There’s a knocking noise and some weird lights (I know… it’s a Jaguar). So I haul myself out the dealership and tell them I’m in a hurry I really need to get home to my sick son. They are lovely and helpful and send me to the other end of their parking lot for Enterprise where I’m typically given a Jaguar to drive.